


The Snakeskin Pants Fic

by verfound



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Luka's a horny bastard, Minor DJ Wifi, Minor Rolling Stone, Nothing explicit, PWP without Porn, it started innocently enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Luka’s coming back home for Christmas, and after three months on tour Marinette has a few surprises for him.  Apparently, snake print is in this year.  (Or: “Marinette Utilizes Snake Print to Torture her Very Horny Boyfriend IDEK Anymore”.)
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 247





	The Snakeskin Pants Fic

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a 12 Gifts of Christmas-esque fic inspired by the frankly ridiculous amount of red snake print seen at the mall one Saturday before Christmas. I don’t even know what it is anymore (it’s as done as it’s gonna be, is what it is) – like the idea of twelve different gifts/items stayed there, but it’s mostly just rambly fluff. Well. Slightly more than fluff – it’s like PWP without the P, because Luka’s horny ass would not shut up. Then Jagged got involved, and any hopes of a plot got thrown out the window. So I hope y’all got your Spinbrushes this Christmas, ‘cause this is about 11,000 words of tooth-rotting fluff. Merry Christmas, bitches!

It started simply.

It was just past midnight, and Luka was still buzzing from the show they had closed two hours ago. Jagged and Penny had retired to the back of the bus, and most of the rest of the band was asleep in their respective bunks. Pierre and Crusher (his real name was Jean, but he felt that wasn’t rock-n-roll enough for Jagged Stone’s drummer) were playing cards near the front of the bus, but other than Luka they were the only ones still awake. He supposed they were all used to this by now. The high. The rush. Luka, who had only been playing with Jagged for about six months now (when Vivica left to pursue a solo career), still had trouble getting his brain to shut off after a show, and the last show had been a really good one. He was reclining on a bench around the middle of the bus, Fang curled up around his back and his guitar in his lap. He was just starting to consider turning in for the night when the first text hit him.

_MDC: Double-checking my Christmas list. Should I tell Santa you’ve been naughty or nice this year?_

The kiss emoji concluded the text.

He almost dropped his guitar. It wouldn’t have been the first time Marinette had made him do so, intentionally or not.

_LC: i’ve been VERY nice. what are you still doing up? it’s late there._

If it was just past midnight where he was, it was just past two back home. He’d had his phone set to display both times – Paris and wherever he currently was – since the tour had started back in September. It helped keep him grounded. Connected.

_MDC: I dunno. Leaving your girlfriend all alone for MONTHS doesn’t seem very nice to me._

His eyebrows soared. Neither had liked the distance, but Marinette was the one who had insisted he go. When Jagged had first approached him about the tour, he’d been ready to turn him down. Marinette would be starting her final year at university, and he’d wanted to stay close by. She had gone ballistic when he’d told her, refusing to be the reason he put his dreams on hold.

“I’ll be too busy with school, anyway,” she’d said, already pulling up Jagged’s contact in her phone. Which was true: they both knew her final year was going to be ballistic, which was why he’d wanted to stay close. Moral support and all that. “Go, Luka. This is an amazing opportunity, and I will _not_ have you waste it.”

_MDC: In fact, it seems VERY naughty._

There were two more emojis at the end: another kiss and a wink. He swallowed.

_LC: but i’m coming home for christmas? doesn’t that get me back on the nice list?_

He’d be home the next day, actually. That had been part of the reason he’d agreed on the tour in the first place: Jagged had promised they’d be home in time for Christmas, as the two weeks leading up to the holiday were crammed with special concerts, galas, benefits, and other such seasonal obligations Jagged was committed to. They were about five hours out of Paris now.

(Next year was another matter entirely, but Jagged had hinted at a summer tour he wanted Marinette to join them for in an official designer capacity.)

_MDC: …maybe. But I can’t promise either of us will stay off the naughty list once you’re here and I’ve got my hands on you._

Another wink.

Another kiss.

…handcuffs? Holy shit.

He fell back against Fang, groaning as he dropped his phone to his chest. That girl was going to be the absolute death of him.

– V –

They rolled up to Le Grand Paris just past eight in the morning. Luka was fairly certain the driver had broken about half a dozen traffic laws getting them there, but as he shuffled off the bus and breathed in the fresh Parisian air he couldn’t find it in him to complain. There were a thousand different smells in the air, most of them coming from the restaurant of the hotel before them, but above it all he picked out freshly baked bread. It made him want to head towards a certain bakery first thing.

Jagged clapped a hand against his shoulder as the older rocker hopped off the bus, asking if he wanted to join them for some breakfast before he ran off to find his family. Luka shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “Mm. Césaire’s cooking is amazing, but I think I’m feeling like croissants.”

Jagged laughed as he took a deep breath, nodded, and added, “Yeah. Definitely craving some T&S croissants.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, kid,” Jagged laughed, nudging his side. “I know you’re actually just tired of looking at my ugly mug.”

“You got me,” Luka chuckled. He checked his phone. Marinette hadn’t texted him since the handcuffs (good Lord the _handcuffs_ ). “All due respect, J, but there’s a much prettier mug I’d rather be looking at right now.”

“Give our girl my love,” Jagged said as Penny started steering him towards the hotel. “And remind her about Christmas!”

With his guitar slung across his back (and his suitcase still on the bus – he’d come back for it later), he made his way to the best bakery in all of Paris. This close to Christmas, every day was bustling for the Dupain-Cheng’s. The walk there wasn’t long, but he still had to wait a few minutes before he was able to slip inside. Upon hearing the bell, Sabine looked up from the customer she was helping to greet him. Her smile widened when she realized who had just entered the bakery, and she eagerly waved him over.

“Come in, come in!” she called. She winked at him, turned her head slightly, and called into the back. “Marinette! Dear, I could use your help up front!”

The woman in the puffy grey coat and chunky yellow scarf took her order, thanked Sabine, and gave him a smile as he slipped past her. He hugged Sabine as the next customer stepped up to the counter.

“Go on back, dear – Lord only knows what Tom has her working on, so it could be a while,” she whispered with a wink. Before he could slip away, she pulled him down for another hug. “Oh, welcome home. It’s so good to see you!”

He could hear her explaining to the couple picking up four dozen macarons: _oh, that’s just my future son-in-law. He’s been travelling for work – just got in._ A smile quirked his lips at that, though it immediately vanished when he ducked into the back and saw Marinette.

Bent in front of one of the ovens, pulling out a tray of croissants. Her ass raised high in the air.

Her ass. Covered in…dear Lord. Were those…was she…his eyes trailed over the pattern hugging her legs like a second skin, and he gulped. She was wearing bright red leather pants. Bright red leather pants that were decorated with a snakeskin print.

They looked amazing, especially paired with the cream sweater and black flats she was also sporting, but his mind wasn’t really able to process much beyond _snakeskin_ and _Marinette’s ass_ and good Lord, there was no way in hell he was staying off the naughty list this year. He swallowed again, his lips pressed together tightly to keep him from saying something stupid. There were at least six…seven…eight things he could think of off the top of his head involving those pants and his girlfriend that would land them both on the naughty list.

It might be a nice place to be.

She finished putting the trays that had been in the oven on a rack and swapped them out for the five lower pans on the rack. She closed the oven door with a flourish and spun on her heel, pressing a finger against the timer in the process.

God, she was hot.

“…actually, yeah,” she laughed, and he jolted as he realized he’d voiced that thought aloud. “I don’t know why I thought wearing a sweater in a bakery was a good idea. Probably for that reaction, but I didn’t think I’d be in the back much.”

“…I’m not even sorry,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You look…”

“I know,” she said with a wink. She held her arms up, beckoning him closer. “Now get over here and show me how much you’ve missed me.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

– V –

He was back at the bakery late the next morning, ready to pick her up for a quick lunch before they met her old classmates for a Christmas party Alya had organized. However, to his utter dismay, Sabine shook her head when he walked in.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” she said, handing a bag of croissants to a grumpy elderly man that reminded Luka of Marinette’s grandfather. “You just missed her. Alya needed help for some last-minute decorating and picked her up half an hour ago.”

She took the order of the next customer and began pulling pastries from one of the cases. She glanced back at him with a concerned frown.

“Didn’t she text you?” she asked, and he pulled out his phone. Sure enough, there was a message he had missed in his rush to see her again. She apologized, explained how Alya needed help, and asked him to meet her there. He nearly dropped his phone when Tom appeared before him with a large, off-white box.

“It worked out, though – she forgot this,” he said with a wink. “Mind taking it with you?”

Nino and Alya’s flat was only a few blocks away, and he had his Vespa with him. It wouldn’t be a problem.

They waved him off just as the next wave of Christmas Customers rushed in. Before he knew it, the box was strapped to the back of his Vespa, he was on his way to Alya’s, and the holiday insanity was behind him – or so he thought. A short drive later found him stepping into another kind of insanity altogether.

Alya had always loved Christmas. From the first Christmas he had known her, Luka had been aware of that fact. Alya was just one of those people that seemed to breathe Christmas, waiting the entire year for that one month when she was allowed to let her Christmas freak flag fly, and did she ever. When Nino opened the door to their flat – a strangled, manic look of desperation on his face that clearly screamed _HELP!_ – Luka saw this year would be no different. As he stepped inside and Nino took the box from him, he was struck by the impression that Christmas had thrown up in their flat.

The next thing he noticed, when Alya came racing forward to crush him in a hug, was the definite bump sticking out from her sweater. He turned wide eyes on Nino, understanding some of the panic behind his eyes.

When had _that_ happened, and why had no one told him? He’d only been gone for three months! And yet…he supposed it did explain a lot. He had known Marinette had moved out a few months back, shortly after Nino had moved in, to give the couple _space_. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, as they were planning on getting their own flat once he was back from the tour, but her sudden desire to move back in with her parents until he returned home suddenly made much more sense.

“Babe, babe, let him breathe!” Nino laughed, cutting off Alya’s ramble about how good it was to see him, he looked great, oh good he got the desserts, Mari was hopeless honestly _how could she forget_ , do you want cocoa, Nino makes amazing cocoa, Nino I want some cocoa…

“Sorry!” Alya laughed, pulling away with a final squeeze. She laid a hand on her stomach and winked. “The hormones are starting to kick in. I was serious about that cocoa, though, babe.”

“Alya! Where did you want the dancing snowmen?” Marinette called from the other room, and Alya let out a cry before dashing back inside. Luka stood just inside the door feeling like he’d just been swept up in a hurricane.

“Are…are you sure that’s not Marinette in Alya’s body?” he finally asked with a weak laugh. They’d seen stranger things, back in the days of Hawkmoth. (Actually, they had seen that _exact_ thing, and hadn’t that been fun for everyone involved?) Nino laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Mari was gonna tell you, but Alya wanted to keep it a surprise,” he said with a shrug. “Happy Christmas, dude. Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” Luka said as Nino pulled him into a quick hug. Nino clapped a hand against his back before pulling away and leading him into the main room. “I can’t believe you got her pregnant. I can’t believe she’s pregnant. Alya on a good day is bad, but _preg_ …”

His words died in his throat as he looked up and saw his own girlfriend. Nino’s grin nearly split his face as Luka breathed out a strangled, _“Son of a bitch…”_

It was the pants all over again, except this time it wasn’t pants. That is, her pants were lovely. Nice. Dear-Lord-He-Wanted-To-Peel-Them-Off-Her nice, in fact. Skinny jeans hugged her legs, and while they were _heavenly_ they were a deep black instead of the snakeskin red she wore the day before. They were tucked into black boots, an adorable fluffy, Santa-esque white fur cuff around the tops, and her top…it was entirely too innocent for the reaction it sparked in him. Dolman sleeves (and, God, he knew he was dating a fashion designer when he could say he knew what the hell a _dolman sleeve_ was) draped from the arms that were lifted above her head, positioning a sunglass-sporting snowman on the wall. The entire top was flowy and loose, cinching in where it was tucked into her pants, and did not accentuate her figure like those pants did.

…but it was red, just like yesterday’s pants. And it was snakeskin print. Just like yesterday’s pants. And he maybe wanted to rip it off her with his teeth. _Just like yesterday’s pants_.

He swallowed thickly. Nino clapped a hand against his shoulder, giving what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic squeeze, but the son of a bitch was _snickering at him_. Luka attempted to tear his eyes off Marinette long enough to shoot a glare Nino’s way, but he didn’t quite manage it. The result was Marinette locking eyes with him when she turned her head to ask Alya something, and damn it all _she was smirking at him_.

She knew _exactly_ what she was doing. It just wasn’t fair. When she winked at him before turning back to Alya, he finally leveled Nino with what was probably a withering stare.

“Dude,” Nino wheezed, reaching up to wipe tears from his eyes. Luka’s glower darkened.

“If we end up leaving early, or before this stupid party even starts…” he said, forcing a steady breath out through his nose, “…it is entirely Marinette’s fault.”

– V –

The next day, Marinette had barely made it two steps into his old room on the Liberty (where he was staying while he was back in town) before Luka pulled her to him by the ends of the red, snake print scarf that was wrapped around her neck. She laughed into his kiss, ruining the fact that he was trying to be cross with her. He tugged on the scarf, making her giggle again.

“You’re driving me absolutely crazy,” he said against her lips. He kissed her again, one hand sliding along her waist to yank her closer as the other continued to toy with the scarf. “You do realize that, right?”

“That’s the whole idea, Star,” she whispered. He groaned, leaning his forehead against her own, and she pecked her lips against his. “You haven’t even seen the bra yet.”

The noise he made was definitely strangled and definitely not human, but he found he didn’t really care when she pushed him back on his bed and crawled on top of him. When he finally got her top off of her, he was disappointed to see the bra wasn’t snake print, too.

Until she bit his ear and whispered, “I wasn’t talking about _this_ bra, silly.”

– V –

He didn’t see her the next day, but that was entirely Jagged’s fault. Andre Bourgeois had roped the rocker into playing his annual holiday party – sorry, _Extravaganza_ – which meant the rest of the band was committed, too. Marinette had been invited, of course, but she had already agreed to working an extra shift at the bakery.

“Besides,” she’d said as she shimmied back into her jeans an hour before he was supposed to be at Le Grand Paris. He’d raised an eyebrow at her from where he was still sprawled in the bed, head propped on his folded arms and the rest of him bare as the day he was born. She’d knelt beside the bed to retrieve her top, and he’d pulled her in for another kiss before she could escape. She’d tried to reach around and slap his ass for further delaying her, and he chuckled against her lips when she was only half-successful and hit his lower back instead. “I’ll be joining you at Jagged’s own Christmas party in a few days. That’s about as much Chloé as I can stand for one holiday.”

“I know it’s the life, but I still hate these events,” he’d sighed. “I wish you could come. Schmoozing the Mayor would be much more tolerable with you there.”

The party ran late, of course – as they always do. By the time he woke up the next day, she was already running late for a shopping day with Alya, Mylène, and Rose. She hadn’t really had time to talk, but that hadn’t stopped her from accepting his vid call. He smiled as he watched her rush around her old room, rooting through boxes as she tried to find something she’d promised to bring for Mylène.

“So I’m missing my Mari time entirely today?” he asked. She huffed and waved him off.

“You’ve seen me every day since you’ve been back,” she called. “You can survive _one day_ without me.”

“After ninety days away from you, I’d say we still have a lot of time to make up for,” he said. He propped his phone against the wall and rolled over on his bed, hugging his pillow closer. He wished it was her instead. “I’m still not fully convinced we’ve made the naughty list yet.”

She snorted, refraining from making a comment. He smiled wider.

“We’ll just have to make up for it tomorrow,” she finally said, kicking the current box away in frustration. “Speaking of, are you free for a couple hours tomorrow afternoon?”

“For you? Always,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

“I know we weren’t really going to look at flats until the spring, but Alya and I were talking –” she started, and he chuckled.

“Never a good sign,” he said. She raised her arm in the general direction of her phone, flipping him off. He bit his lower lip to try and smother his laugh.

“And she brought up how, even if you find a great flat, it could still take a couple months to get in between waiting lists and everything,” she said. She crossed the room to come back to the desk, dropping to her knees to rummage through a box she’d stashed beneath it. He was only vaguely aware of whatever she was saying – was she still talking about flats? – as his eyes honed in on the nails gripping the edge of the desk.

He had noticed they were painted, and he had realized they were red, but now that he was seeing them up close…he groaned and pushed his face into the pillow. The red was speckled with more snake print. He had no idea where she was finding all this – he hadn’t even known you could get snakeskin nails, though really it shouldn’t have surprised him – but he was convinced she was going to kill him before the tour kicked back up in the new year. He was vaguely aware of the fact that she was still talking when he peeked up from the pillow, sucking in a breath as he saw her nails again. Her fingers gripped against the edge of the desk, and he swallowed thickly as he let his mind imagine what else they could be gripping if not for Alya and her stupid Decorate the Nursery shopping trip.

“…Marinette,” he cut in, his voice slightly strangled. “Darning. Are you actively trying to kill me?”

Her head popped up from beneath the desk, a genuine look of confusion on her face. He didn’t buy it for a second, though. She might not _currently_ realize what he was dying over, but he firmly believed she had known exactly what those nails would do to him when she had picked them out.

The little minx.

“Sorry?” she asked, puffing her cheeks out as her distracted gaze dipped below the desk again. She shook her head, slapping the box, and looked back at her phone. “Sorry. What did I do?”

“Your nails, darning,” he groaned. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at her manicure, and _there_ was the smirk he’d been expecting. She actually had the nerve to laugh as she looked back at the phone, waggling her fingers at him in a teasing gesture.

“You like them? They made me think of you, so I just _had_ to get them,” she giggled. He smiled fondly at her.

“You’re driving me crazy. You realize that, right?” he asked. He heard a hissing laugh behind her, and while he couldn’t see his old kwami he knew Sass was getting a kick out of their game. From Marinette’s smirk, she knew it, too. “God. I feel like a horny teenager again.”

“Instead of the horny adult you grew up to be?” she snorted. He rolled his eyes.

“Three months on the road is a long time, darning,” he said. She nodded, though he could tell she was distracted again.

“We’re barely into our twenties, anyway,” she said. He bit back a laugh as she dove into another box, her feet kicking in the air as it tried to swallow her whole. “You’re allowed to still be a horny teenager – as long as I’m the one reaping the benefits!”

She flipped back out of the box and huffed, locking her fists against her hips.

“Shoot!” she said. “Ugh. I should’ve looked last night. At this rate I won’t find the stupid book until we move in. Speaking of – you never answered me. Are you up for tomorrow?”

He was about to let her know that he was _up_ for today when he realized she was asking about what he had been too distracted to listen to. From the look she shot him as she picked up her phone, she realized it, too. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Tomorrow afternoon? Looking at a couple flats?” she asked. He tried to remember what she had said earlier. They were planning on moving in together in the spring – once he got back from the tour and she had graduated. She had been living with Alya, but then Alya had gotten pregnant and Nino had moved in and she’d wanted to give them space (plus, her old room was now the nursery they were all going shopping for today). She was back at her parents’ in the meantime, saving up what she would otherwise be paying in rent for the spring.

But he hadn’t thought they would be looking until he got back.

“…Star, you didn’t listen to a damn thing I said earlier, did you?” she sighed, though she didn’t really look annoyed.

“Your nails are _very_ distracting,” he said, a sheepish grin on his face. She sat on the edge of her desk, shaking her head as she reached for a pair of boots.

“Because finding a flat can take a lot longer than _hey let’s go look_ , and I’d kind of like to have somewhere for you to come home to next time, I might have been looking already,” she said. His eyebrows rose, a slow smile curling his lips. She rolled her eyes at him. He heard her tap the screen, probably where his nose was. “I’ve found a few I think you might like, and I wanted to know if you had time tomorrow to go look?”

“That eager to live with me, huh?” he teased. She shrugged, trying to look indifferent.

“Alya might be hinting that we need to get a move on, if our kids are going to grow up together and get married,” she said. She sounded a bit exasperated, as if Alya wasn’t even that far into her pregnancy and was already driving her crazy. “I told her it’s not my fault she accelerated her own schedule.”

He started laughing, ducking his head against his pillow again to smother the noise.

“I love you and will gladly put a baby in you whenever you’re ready,” he said after a moment, raising his head to grin at her. “Especially if you keep up this snake print game of yours.”

“Let me finish school first,” she laughed. She rolled her eyes at a shout on her end. She sighed, kissed her fingertips, and pressed them against her screen. “I’ve gotta go. I love you. See you tomorrow?”

“Counting the hours,” he said. She called him a dork before hanging up, and he sighed as he dropped his face back against his pillow. He took in a deep breath, slowly pushing it out before turning his head to look back at his phone. The call had ended, but the lock screen was still illuminated: a picture from the Christmas party that Rose had snatched of them under the mistletoe. Seeing Marinette in that top reminded him of her nails, and he groaned as he pressed his face back into the pillow.

“… _fuck me_ ,” he moaned. Tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough.

– V –

She had three flats to show him, and they agreed to meet for an early lunch before their first appointment. He arrived at the café first, as it was closer to the Liberty than the bakery, but she didn’t make him wait long.

“Luka!” she called as she jogged down the sidewalk. He looked up from his phone, a smile stretching his lips and a greeting on the tip of his tongue, when he saw what she was holding in the hand not waving at him. He blinked, his arm pausing as he raised it in greeting, and looked back at the travel mug. Honestly, she was just getting ridiculous by this point.

He could understand snakeskin pants. He could even understand a snakeskin top. Snake print wasn’t _that_ uncommon, especially on clothes. It made sense. So in that light, the scarf even made sense – possibly even the nails!

But a _coffee cup?_

He would have thought he’d be safe by this point. Surely she had to be running out of ideas by now. But then she jogged up to him – a white travel cup with a red, snake print silicone sleeve wrapped around it in her hands – and she proved him wrong.

…at least her nails were covered, he thought as she wiggled glove-covered fingers at him.

“What?” she asked innocently when he continued to stare pointedly at the cup. “Not sexy enough for you?”

His eyes closed again, a chuckle escaping him as he looped an arm around her waist and yanked her towards him. She giggled as she quickly maneuvered her arm to keep from spilling her drink, and he smiled as she returned his hug.

“You could be wearing a burlap sack and still be plenty sexy for me,” he said softly, aware of the crowded sidewalk around them. He pecked a kiss against her cheek. “But yes. A coffee cup is worlds safer than, say, those pants of yours.”

“I knew you liked the pants!” she cackled. He rolled his eyes as he released her. He opened the door to the café, and she leaned up to kiss his own cheek before hurrying inside.

“I never gave any impression I _didn’t_ like the pants,” he said. He looped his arm around her side as he came up beside her in line, where she was studying the menu a bit too intently. He leaned down to whisper, “Or the top. Or the scarf. Or the nails. I thought about those nails all night, darning.”

She said nothing as he pressed a quick kiss against her neck, but he could feel the heat on her cheeks. She felt his smirk against her skin as he whispered, “…and you promised there was a bra I still haven’t seen. I’m _really_ looking forward to that one.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Couffaine,” she finally whispered back to him. There was a little girl in line in front of them, reminding Marinette that they were very much in public. She took a sip from her cup, but her eyes widened and she nearly choked on it when he pinched her side. She shot a dark look his way, but his smile was easygoing and innocent. “ _Luka!_ ”

“I feel like I didn’t try hard enough this Christmas,” he sighed, ignoring her look of warning. He frowned as he looked at the menu board, pretending to consider the day’s offerings. “Ladybug’s popular enough in Paris. Think I might be able to find some Ladybug-print boxers while I’m home?”

He turned his head to grin at her as the family in front of them stepped up to place their order.

“Or maybe you know an aspiring designer who might be able to help a fellow out? Surprise his girl for Christmas?” he asked innocently. She lifted her cup again, her eyes narrowing as she took another sip.

“Game on, Couffaine,” she said primly as the cashier greeted them. She slapped on her brightest smile and ducked away from his arm. He laughed as he followed behind her, shaking his head as he reached for her again.

He had thought the game was already on, but ok. The man behind the register asked what he’d like, and he flashed him his most easygoing smile as he squeezed Marinette’s side again.

“I’ll have the soup, I think.”

– V –

He didn’t get to see the bra the next day, which was probably the safest bet as she surprised him at work. He was at the studio, headphones on and gaze locked intently on his guitar as he tuned it. They were still waiting for Jagged, who was tied up with Penny discussing last-minute party details (or so he claimed, but they had all seen the look he’d given her before chasing her down the hall). He missed Crusher’s snicker because of the headphones, and the drummer leaned over to tap a stick against his knee to catch his attention. He had just lifted his head, headphones still on, when his vision was blocked by red. He went to remove the headphones when he felt Marinette press herself against his back, and he grinned once the headphones were removed and he could hear Crusher cackling from the other couch.

“…thought I wasn’t going to see you until tonight,” he said. She giggled, dropping a kiss against his shoulder. His smile widened when she pressed another against his neck.

“I missed you,” she said innocently, “and I thought maybe you could use a pick-me-up.”

She removed her hands to grab something from the table beside them. He was dimly aware of the travel cup from yesterday – filled with peppermint cocoa, from the scent of the steam rising from the lip – being pressed into his hands. He was more focused on the hands holding it, the glove-covered fingers brushing against his as he failed to take the cup from her. He groaned, tipping his head back to stare up at her.

“ _Marinette_ ,” he whined. Crusher’s cackling doubled in volume when Marinette smirked at him and pecked a kiss against his nose. His grip finally tightened on the cup, but he almost dropped it when her hands left his and drew slow lines up his arms. His eyes flicked down to her hands as they slid across his chest, wrapping lightly around his shoulders in a loose hug. When he looked back at her, she was still smirking.

The gloves were fitted, made of a smooth material, a deep cherry red in color, and _covered in snake print._ They matched the scarf, which was poking out of her cream-colored coat. She reached up to tap his nose, and he groaned.

“Crusher, get the fuck out of here,” he said forcefully when the drummer continued to laugh his head off.

“She has you so fucking _whipped!”_ he laughed. Marinette and Luka both raised their middle fingers at him, which only set him off again.

“I actually did come here for business,” she said, bending down to kiss him. His hand snaked up her neck, fingers curling around the back of her head and trying to hold her to him just a little longer. She giggled when he nipped at her lips, patting his chest affectionately as she pulled away. “I have to meet with Penny about some party details. I couldn’t just stop in and not say hi, though.”

“You stopped in to torture me and you know it,” he growled against her lips. From her smirk, he wasn’t wrong.

“Snake print’s in this year,” she said innocently. “It’s my duty as an up-and-coming designer to follow the trends. I can’t possibly show up to work wearing last year’s patterns.”

She said it so innocently he _almost_ believed her. He went to pull her in for another kiss when the door to the lounge banged open. He pressed his eyes closed as Jagged’s booming voice announced his presence.

“Mari, my favorite little designer!” he crowed. Luka rolled his eyes as Marinette was swept up in a hug. “How’ve you been, darling? My boy here treating you all right?”

“Oh, I think he’s treating her more than _all right_ –” Crusher snickered before Luka tossed a cushion at him.

“She’s trying to kill me, J,” Luka groaned, tipping his head back to grin up at them, “and I’m loving every minute of it.”

Jagged’s booming laugh filled the room, the arm still looped around Marinette’s shoulders squeezing her tight. Marinette shot him a little glare, her face a bright pink (after all, he wouldn’t dare say something so bold in front of _Tom_ ), but he just smiled at her.

“I better go find Penny before I actually do kill you, then,” Marinette sniffed when Jagged finally calmed down. She stuck her tongue out at him, but she didn’t object when he reached out to lace their fingers together. He drew his thumb along the back of her glove, smiling at the pattern. He was beginning to think snakeskin suited her. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Hopefully,” he said. “If not then definitely tomorrow.”

“Pen’s in the conference room down the hall,” Jagged said, squeezing her shoulders one last time before letting go. “Right, mates! We best get to work then, if we want to finish before the night’s up!”

– V –

…he didn’t see the bra the day after, either, but that was Audrey Bourgeois’s fault.

“I thought she was giving you off for the holiday,” he said, bending to give her a quick kiss once she flew off the lifts in the lobby of the _Bourgeois_ (formerly _Gabriel_ ) offices. She whined when he pulled away, and the next thing he knew her fingers were in his hair and she was tugging his mouth back to hers. She pulled away before it could turn into full-blown makeout, sighing as she rested her forehead against his own.

“…better,” she sighed, pecking his lips one final time before she stepped away. She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the coffee cart. “She did, technically, but there was an emergency, and it’s all hands on deck. I’m clear until the new year after today, though. The Bourgeois are spending Christmas with some family in Versailles, and then they’re off to New York for New Year’s Eve. Something about Ryan Seacrest and Chloé – I didn’t want details.”

“Think we’re all safer that way,” he snorted. She grinned at him before placing her order. He winced when he heard her order a coffee for Audrey as well. He should have known he wouldn’t actually catch her on a true break. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but she waved him off as she reached for her own. “Mari –”

“Oh, hush,” she said, pulling a _red snakeskin wallet_ out of her purse. He was too distracted (amused, surprised, incredulous) by the wallet to notice the company card she pulled out. “Audrey stole our day together – the least she can do is buy you coffee. You know what? Throw in an apple turnover, too. I’m hungry. Wanna share?”

She looked back at him, but he was still smirking at her wallet. She grinned as she handed it over to him.

“Like it?” she giggled, and he ducked down to kiss her again.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmured against her lips. The barista rolled his eyes at how disgustingly sweet they were being. “You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are fucking adorable.”

They had maybe five minutes to drink their coffee and enjoy the turnover – and each other – before Audrey was blowing up Marinette’s phone, demanding her coffee and a good excuse for what was taking so long.

– V –

He also didn’t see the (by now infamous) bra the day after _that_ , though by that point he was just blaming it on bad timing. His grandparents hadn’t left Scotland since the early eighties, so of course his ninety-seven year-old grandfather had chosen _now_ to leave his island and seek out his wayfaring daughter.

Luka rolled his eyes as he slumped forward on the handlebar of his ma’s bike (because his Vespa wasn’t fast enough, and the Couffaines were in panic mode over the impending Arrival, apparently), quickly double-checking the text that told him to _wait there, I’ll be right down, don’t move_ with a sigh. It was probably for the best, anyway. In true Bourgeois fashion, Audrey had extended her _just one day_ into two, and Marinette would be tied up at the fashion house for most of the day again. He looked up at the crash from the door, and he couldn’t stop the smile as his girlfriend tumbled out of the bakery with two large boxes in hand.

“Sorry!” she called, skidding to a stop by the bike. He took the boxes from her, twisting to secure them on the back of the bike, and then pulled her into a fierce hug.

“Come back with me,” he begged, squeezing her tight. “Tell Audrey you had a family emergency and come back with me.”

“As tempting as that is, you know I can’t,” she sighed. Her hands slid up his back, resting on the backs of his shoulders as she pressed against him. “You’ll be fine. I thought you liked your grandpa?”

“I do,” he said. He dropped a kiss against the bit of skin poking out from her collar, his reward a frustrated sigh. “I just like you more. Swing by after work?”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I might be there late tonight.”

“Then swing by after work and spend the night,” he said, making her laugh. He nuzzled against her, drawing out another giggle when his hair tickled her face. “I like sleeping with you. God, I don’t know how I’m going to handle that bus next month now that I’ve had you back. Spend the night with me, darning.”

She squeezed him tight before leaning back, kissing his cheek before she stepped away. He groaned again at the loss of contact, but the pretty blush she wore from his words maybe made it worth it.

“We’ll see,” she said, glancing at her feet as she bit back a smile. He gave her a pout that was only half-serious.

“I thought Christmas break was supposed to be for relaxing,” he said. “Cuddles with cocoa under heated blankets and all that.”

“And family driving you crazy while the world goes nuts with last-minute preparations,” she laughed. He rolled his eyes, about to comment, when his eyes landed on the bag that was always present on her hip. His eyebrows soared as he spotted Tikki peeking out at him, the tiny god giggling as she waved.

“…that’s new,” he said, nodding towards the bag – because it was. Not Tikki, of course, but the bag itself. Her usual monogramed bag, the one she’d had as long as he knew her, had been replaced with a bag equal in size and made of the same cherry red snakeskin fabric that had been popping up all over her wardrobe the past week. A black patch in the center featured a red monogramed _M,_ but instead of her signature flowers a teal snake that reminded him of Sass curled around the letter. Tikki giggled again before disappearing in the bag, and Marinette grinned as she tapped his nose.

“Three months is a long time,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve liked having things around that remind me of you.”

“Like this bra you still haven’t let me see?” he asked, laughing. She rolled her eyes, but she still glanced behind her to make sure Tom hadn’t walked out to say hi. Even if both of her parents had been hinting at grandbabies, she still wasn’t comfortable with either of them being aware she had a sex life (…even if they all knew she did).

“You’ll see it soon enough,” she huffed. His grin widened.

“Like tonight?” he asked hopefully.

“… _we’ll see_ ,” she repeated firmly, and he groaned as his phone pinged. He glanced at it to find an SOS from his ma. Marinette smiled sympathetically before leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Go. I’ll swing by if I can. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

– V –

He didn’t see her – or the bra – that night. By the time Audrey had finally released her for the holiday, she had barely had the energy to make it home before she passed out in her bed. She had sent him a text informing him as such, then another inviting him over the next day for snuggles and cocoa and heated blankets. He received a final text fifteen minutes later (he was relieved to note, as that meant she had most likely transformed to get home faster), informing him that he should come see her now instead of tomorrow because her bed was entirely too lonely without him.

He’d dropped his phone on his face, his smile so wide it hurt as he tried to keep his laughter quiet. He was only a little glad Juleka had moved in with Rose their second year at university and he currently had their old room to himself – he could only imagine the hell she’d give him for how he was acting.

Probably something along the lines of “stupid”, “gross”, and “dumbass older brothers”. There would probably also be a jibe about how he was no better than a “dumb thirteen-year-old girl”.

He left the Liberty as early as was acceptable the next day, which meant before his grandparents (or mother) woke up and could accuse him of ditching them. (He’d bring Marinette back later to meet them as an apology, anyway.) Sabine waved him up as soon as he slipped in, letting him know Marinette was still asleep when Tom had run up twenty minutes ago, but by the time he reached the ladder leading up to her room, he could hear movement above. He grinned as he climbed the stairs to her room, pushing the hatch open without knocking, and froze the second his head was in the room.

“ _Holy shit,_ ” he breathed by way of greeting. Marinette was bent over one of the many boxes littering the room, dressed in nothing but her underwear. And that would have been good enough, but…he couldn’t see the bra from this angle, but he was fairly certain it was _the_ bra.

If the red, snake print underwear was anything to go by, at least. (…she hadn’t mentioned the bra was a matching set, holy shit.)

She squeaked in surprise, but he was behind her (the hatch closed firmly behind him) before she could right herself. His hands found her hips and squeezed as she stood, her back pressing against his chest. She turned her head towards him, but any greeting he went to make was strangled by a groan as he looked down at her – and, as a result, directly into her cleavage. He nudged her hair aside and pressed his lips to her shoulder, nipping at the bra’s black strap with his teeth. She giggled and lifted a hand to bury in his hair.

“I wasn’t expecting you this early,” she said. He tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her back against him.

“Clearly,” he said. “Holy shit, Marinette. Do you have any idea how sexy you are? I’m dead. I have to be dead. I crashed my Vespa on the way over and am currently dead in the street.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, jabbing her shoulder at him. “That’s not funny.”

“I was starting to think you were joking about the bra,” he said. A hand slid up her side, cupping her breast and brushing his thumb against the fabric. It was so damn _soft_. Her next giggle was breathy, and he smirked against her skin. “When do your parents usually take their break? Please tell me we’re going to be alone for a while.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed, tipping her head back against his shoulder. He bit at her neck, and a shiver ran down her spine. He pressed his lips against her shoulder, hiding the grin that curled his lips at her reaction.

“You’ve never complained before,” he teased, the hand still on her hip sliding lower. He laughed as her elbow found his ribs. She spun away from him, a grin quirking her lips as she leaned against her desk. He swallowed as he took her in, his eyes raking over her in a way that could be described as nothing short of lecherous.

It really was a _wonderful_ bra.

The cups were made of the red snake print fabric, but the edges were rimmed with black lace that formed a translucent back. The neckline plunged, accentuating her cleavage, and the straps were black ribbons. The underwear was the same red snake print with lace on the edges, and he knew if she turned there would be a swatch cut away from the top, black ribbons crisscrossing over the cleft of her ass. (It was the view that had greeted him moments before, after all, and what a glorious view it had been.)

“You weren’t supposed to see this yet,” she said, dipping her head when he stalked closer. “It ruined the surprise.”

“I really could care less about surprises right now,” he said, his hands finding her waist. He hefted her up onto her desk, and she smiled at him as he stepped between her legs. “I should probably tell you we’re expected for dinner tonight. My grandparents can’t wait to meet you.”

“It’s barely past eight,” she laughed, looping her arms around his neck. “We have plenty of time before dinner.”

“I’m telling you because, the way you look right now, I don’t know if either of us are making it to dinner,” he said, nuzzling his face against her neck. She laughed when he leaned up to her ear and whispered, “And we’re definitely both landing on the naughty list. I will never get off the naughty list again if you keep wearing things like this.”

“I knew you’d like it,” she snickered. He smirked, pressing another kiss against her skin.

“Darning, I more than like it,” he said. She laughed as he scooped her up, holding her close as he carried her towards her bed. “All right! Kwamis in the box – none of you want to see what’s about to happen here!”

She laughed harder, ducking her head against his neck as she clung to his shoulders. She didn’t see Tikki and Sass zipping towards the old gramophone, but he shared a smirk with his kwami before he sat Marinette on the ladder to her bed. He’d have to say hi later – _much later_. At the moment, Marinette was pulling his mouth back to hers, and there were more…pressing matters to attend to.

– V –

The next day was Christmas Eve. It was also the evening of Jagged Stone’s annual _Christmanakkah Rock-a-Boxa Palooza_ , or as Penny had been begging him to call it for five years now: his holiday party.

(“Penny, my love, my angel, my beautiful goddess of rock-n-roll royalty,” Jagged had cooed a month or two back when she had first renewed her campaign to _Stop Calling the Party That Honestly Jagged What the Hell is Wrong With You_ , “ _Holiday Party_ is nowhere near rock-n-roll enough for my Palooza! We’ve got _three_ holidays to celebrate, love – four if you count New Year’s! Oh, check that – Jagged Stone’s Annual _Christmanakkah Rock-a-Boxa_ New Year’s _Palooza!_ How’s that sound, Pen?”

It sounded like, when they finally got around to having kids, he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the baby name books.)

Marinette would be joining him for the party, but a few things had prevented them from arriving together – even though they had woken up that way in his old room on the Liberty, after she had spent the night following dinner with his grandparents. (Who had loved her, but after having Roland for a grandfather Luka was pretty sure she could navigate any crotchety old man with ease. Actually, their grandfathers would probably be best friends, if they could get them in the same room…) The main issue had been Jagged demanding a final rehearsal now that the thirty-foot menorah had arrived. The other issue had been Marinette herself, who had insisted she had some finishing touches to make on his Christmas present.

“My Christmas present?” he had asked as she’d tried to wiggled away from him. It had already been getting late, and he’d have to be at Le Grand Paris soon enough. He’d spent the past ten minutes trying to convince her to come with him, with little success. She’d huffed as she squirmed again, trying to escape the hold he had on her waist. He’d chuckled as he’d pressed a kiss against her back, nudging her bra strap with his nose. “Wasn’t this my Christmas present?”

“…one of them,” she’d conceded, “but you have one more that I haven’t finished yet, and you were a bit distracting yesterday –”

“ _I_ was distracting?” he’d laughed, and she’d slapped his chest lightly. He’d ducked in for a kiss, and she’d groaned against his lips as she pushed him back. “You were the one who wasn’t even dressed. It was an open invitation.”

“Regardless,” she’d sighed, pecking his lips, “I have work to finish. You have a show to rehearse. I’ll see you tonight, but you have to let me go first.”

Letting her go had always been one of his biggest problems.

In the end, she’d slipped away after a late breakfast with his ma and nana, and an hour later had found him in the grand ballroom of Le Grand Paris hotel, watching in a mix of bemused, delighted horror as a crew struggled to fit a thirty-foot menorah on the stage.

“You would have thought, given he practically lives here any time he’s in town and it’s his main venue, _someone_ would have double-checked the specs,” Pierre muttered as he tossed a bouncy ball towards the floor. He caught it before chucking it again with a snap of his wrist. “Y’know. Make sure the damn thing actually _fits_.”

“Oh, you know Penny made sure of that,” Crusher laughed, twirling his drumsticks. Luka rolled his eyes as he checked his phone.

“And Jagged vetoed her perfectly sensible, would-definitely-fit-the-set menorah for _that_ monstrosity,” he said. He was maybe only a little bitter. He could still be with Marinette right now, instead of sitting in the back of the ballroom waiting for the menorah to not get set up. (He wasn’t being entirely fair. Jagged wanted to take full advantage of the fact that Hanukkah and Christmas crossed this year, so he was maybe going a little heavy on his Jewish pride. He couldn’t fault him that, especially when his visiting grandparents meant the Liberty would be going heavy on Hogmanay this year, too.) He sighed as he squinted at the ceiling above the stage. “Y’know…I’m assuming fireworks are going to shoot out of the top. There’s no way – even if they get it up – there will be enough clearance. This whole show is a fire hazard.”

“ _Jagged_ is a fire hazard,” Penny grumbled before plopping into a chair beside them. They all looked at her with comically wide eyes, and she gestured to the disaster waiting to happen. “If we were doing this outside, that’d be one thing. But the show is _indoors_. The ten-foot menorah would have been _fine_ , but you all know Jagged. _Fine_ isn’t _rock-n-roll_ enough. God, I hate this Christmas party.”

“Christmana-” Crusher started with a grin, but Penny cut him off with a sharp glare and a raised finger.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she hissed. She jabbed her thumb at Luka. “He’s family. You’re expendable. Remember that before you finish that word.”

“Penny, sometimes you’re my favorite stepmom,” Luka snickered. She rolled her eyes before glancing back at her phone. She groaned and stood, already arguing with someone on the other end before she’d risen from the chair. She walked off after ruffling his hair fondly, and he flipped Pierre and Crusher off as they snickered at him.

Eventually, the menorah _was_ set up, even if it was only the top and the base had been placed in storage until the rental company could retrieve the whole thing. Practice went off without a hitch (no one dared mention how much fuss was going into a five-song set that wasn’t even the highlight of the party, or how the closing song was a rocked-out arrangement of the Dreidel Song that was bound to burn the house down), and it wasn’t long after that the guests started arriving. Luka was checking his phone again, having sent out a text to Marinette asking how close she was, with his back to the entrance when she arrived.

“What the hell is _that?_ ” she asked, her voice sounding slightly strangled with laughter. He grinned and stashed his phone in his pocket, turning to greet her.

“Tra…” he started, his best Tevye impression at the ready, but his throat went dry the moment he saw her. He swallowed, but she was too busy staring at the top half of the menorah to notice his reaction. “…dition. More importantly, what the hell is _this?_ ”

She looked at him then, a smirk on her lips as he took her hands. He raised them up and out, affording him a better view of the dress she wore. The perfectly innocent, breathtaking, absolutely _captivating_ dress she wore. It was floor-length, the neckline perfectly modest, and she wore a black lace shawl across her shoulders to distract from the fact that it was sleeveless (which didn’t work; he definitely noticed). But the dress itself was slinky, and red, and that same damn snake print. There was even a black lace accent hugging the sides, matching the bra he was fairly certain she was wearing underneath. Ok, that he prayed she was wearing underneath. His eyebrows soared as he tore his gaze from the dress to catch her eye.

“Was this my Christmas present?” he asked, making her laugh. “I think I must still be on the nice list, darning. Santa’s been ridiculously good to me this year.”

“Not the one I was finishing up today,” she teased, stepping close to give him a kiss. He looped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer. She gestured to the stage behind them. “Seriously, though. A giant menorah? What, is he going to shoot fireworks out the top in the middle of the dreidel song?”

Her jaw dropped in horror when he didn’t answer.

“ _No_ ,” she gasped, and he shrugged helplessly. “Luka, no! He can’t…oh, who am I kidding? It’s Jagged. Of course he would.”

“Of course I’d what, baby girl?” came the familiar voice behind them, and they both turned to find Jagged and Penny approaching them. Jagged cut a striking resemblance to Jack Skellington in his Santa Claus getup, though the pants were still pinstriped. He had actually convinced Penny to dress up as an elf, though both were certain the (most likely heavily spiked) glass of nog in Penny’s hand had helped with that – and the easy (if tight) smile on her face. Marinette glanced up at him, and he squeezed her side in reply.

_I’ll fill you in later,_ the gesture said.

“The menorah?” Marinette asked, and Jagged grinned.

“Beaut, ain’t it? It was _supposed_ to be taller, but I forgot how low the ceiling was in here, and by the time the truck got here there was no time to raise it. Still, it’s totally rock-n-roll, so I can’t complain,” he said with a wink. He pulled her into a tight hug before stepping back and giving her a once-over, whistling in appreciation. “Speaking of beauts – _love_ the dress!”

Marinette rolled her eyes as Jagged motioned for her to turn. When her back was to Luka again, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him, bending to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“I do, too,” he said softly. “I don’t think I said that yet.”

“It was implied,” she said with a smile. Jagged shot a grin at Penny, who was smiling fondly at the couple. Marinette turned her attention back to the rocker, yet she made no motion to remove herself from Luka’s embrace. “So the menorah. Luka said pyrotechnics are involved?”

“Marinette, sweetie, I’ve just got a pleasant buzz going,” Penny said, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm. She squeezed lightly in a pleading gesture. “Do _not_ ruin it. I’ve already slapped Crusher twice this evening, and I’m not above slapping you, too.”

Marinette gave him a look that was caught somewhere between amusement and concern. She squeezed his arms, signaling he needed to let go, and he did so reluctantly so she could link arms with Penny. She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Jagged’s cheek, winking at him when she pulled away.

“I’m stealing her for a bit,” she said. She smiled at Penny. “I think I need my own buzz if I’m going to survive whatever Uncle J has planned for that menorah. Penny, where did you get the eggnog?”

Watching Marinette walk away in that dress was _almost_ worth it. Jagged snickered when he let out a dopey sigh, dropping a hand on his shoulder.

“Same, mate,” he laughed. “C’mon. There were some people I wanted you to meet while the girls are busy.”

He rolled his eyes before slapping on his Industry Face, letting Jagged lead him away for the less enjoyable part of the evening.

– V –

Overall, Jagged’s annual Christmanakkah Rock-a-Boxa New Year’s Palooza wasn’t awful, but a Jagged Stone party rarely was. Jagged only insisted on introducing him to a handful of industry reps, and once Marinette had returned with Penny he’d been released to her care until the set about halfway through the party. After that they had _technically_ been free to leave, but had ended up staying much later than either had planned on account of the good time they were having. When they finally stumbled their way back to the Liberty, it was almost two AM.

Christmas morning.

And Marinette was maybe more than a _little_ tipsy.

“Woah!” he laughed as she tripped over the curb crossing the street in front of the old houseboat. He caught her easily, and she leaned into him as she laughed. “How many drinks did you have, darning?”

“Less than Penny,” she giggled. She pouted at the short distance to the boat. “Star, my legs don’t seem to want to work. I don’t know if I can make it the rest of the way.”

He chuckled lowly, and when she pouted at him he bent down and kissed her cheek.

“It has a lovely body, with legs so short and thin,” he sang quietly in her ear, nudging his nose against her hair, “and when it gets all tired, it drops and then I win.”

She snorted, her composure lasting only a moment before she collapsed against him in a fit of giggles. She blinked up at him, gaze hazy as she gasped, “Did…Luka Couffaine, did you just try to flirt with me using the _Dreidel Song?_ ”

“I’m thinking it’s an appropriate comparison,” he said with a wink. Any reply she might have made was cut off as her breath left her in a whoosh when he scooped her up. Her arms locked around his neck, and he kissed her forehead before he started towards the boat. “See? You dropped, and I won.”

“I didn’t _drop,_ ” she laughed, “you picked me up!”

“After you tripped and fell,” he said, hopping off the gangway and heading towards the door. The boat was quiet, but he wouldn’t expect anything else. His grandparents had probably been asleep for hours, and his ma probably hadn’t been far behind. “C’mon, darning. Let’s get you to bed.”

“But it’s Christmas,” she sighed, cuddling closer to him. “Don’t you want your present?”

“You are my present,” he said, dropping a kiss against her forehead. She giggled, suddenly too relaxed – too sleepy – to reply. “In the morning. Let’s just go to bed now, ok?”

Except when he woke the next morning (…afternoon, maybe – he wasn’t sure), she was gone. He groaned as his arm reached out, groping about the empty part of the bed beside him. The sheets were cold, so she must have been gone a while, and while he appreciated getting to sleep in on Christmas, he’d much rather wake up with her. He grumbled again, his arm flopping against the bed, and a giggle made him crack an eye open. He looked towards the foot of the bed, and suddenly he was much more awake.

“Good morning,” Marinette said. She held out a small, wrapped box to him. When he failed to take it from her, she shook it slightly. He still didn’t grab it, his mind more preoccupied by the vision sitting beside him. She scooted closer, trying to press the box into his hand, but he dodged the gift and grasped the edge of the teddy she was wearing instead, rubbing the teal lace between his fingers. He glanced up at her, a lazy smile on his face. “Luka. Your present.”

“I’m looking at it,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. She rolled her eyes and batted his hand away. She held the box out again, and he pouted at her.

“Ok, let me rephrase,” she said. She gestured to herself, to the Viperion-themed lingerie she wore. The scaled lace that draped across her body, the golden diamond at the center of the teal cups holding her breasts, the black lace that accented the sides, the lacey teal underwear that completed the look…it wasn’t the red snake print she’d been torturing him with for nearly two weeks now, but it was worlds better. She reached out and tapped a finger under his chin, drawing his gaze back to her face. He grinned at her when she tapped his nose. “ _This_ is your present. This,” she said, wiggling the box again, “is mine. And if you expect to get to unwrap _your_ present, I fully expect you to get dressed and let me unwrap my own.”

His eyebrows rose at that, and he sat up before taking the box from her. He glanced at her again once the paper was gone, his hand pausing on the lid.

“To be fair, it wasn’t originally in the plan for your gift,” she said innocently, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “But I might’ve had some last-minute inspiration, and…”

He choked on a laugh as he raised a pair of Ladybug-spotted boxers out of the box. He held them up, grinning from ear to ear as he stared at them in delight.

“Do you like them?” she asked, and she squeaked as he tossed them aside and tackled her, pressing her back into the bed as he peppered kisses across her face.

“Darning,” he chuckled, smirking as her hands found his already bare hips, “I _love_ them.”

He’d have to wear them later, though, he thought as he gave her a proper kiss, but by the way her hands slid against his skin, traveling lower the longer he kissed her, he didn’t really think she cared.

“Merry Christmas,” she breathed into his ear when he left her lips, kissing along her jaw and up to her own ear. He nipped at the lobe, careful of her Miraculous, before placing a kiss against the shell.

“Merry Christmas,” he answered, and then neither said much of anything as he set about unwrapping his gift.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DtlLHwk9_Rw - This is NOT rock enough for Jagged Stone, but it's still a kickass arrangement. I believe it's only the fifth night of Hanukkah, so happy Hanukkah if you're celebrating!


End file.
